


how to get away with murder(ing gender roles)

by literatureonhowtolose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Boys in Skirts, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humor, M/M, Pastel Goth Keith, Smut, defying gender roles is the best way of spending time together, i cried a bit they're cute ok, idk lance is just lance i guess, just a little bit but still, lance is a beauty guru who spends two thousand hours in keith's bathroom, more like, that's the greatest tag i've ever seen, there's also........
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literatureonhowtolose/pseuds/literatureonhowtolose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>«Lance, are you wearing my skirt?»<br/>Keith's voice took him by surprise, so much so that he almost shot through the roof with a loud gasp.<br/>«¡Dios mío!», he shouted, «You're too quiet, dude!»<br/>Keith frowned.<br/>«Stop calling me “dude”, my tongue is in your mouth a lot.»<br/>Lance let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.<br/>«Whatever, man.»</p><p> <br/>In which Lance tries on one of Keith's skirts and ends up liking it. Keith likes it even more, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to get away with murder(ing gender roles)

**Author's Note:**

> So! It's currently, like, 4AM here in Italy, but I swear I didn't finish writing this late. I'm just generally very slow. In doing stuff. BUT ANYWAY, here I am, entering a new fandom with some not-so-glorious p0rn (forgive my smut, I know it sucks. I know I'm sorry). I didn't want this to happen, but it did, so........ yeah. THERE'S ALSO A TON OF FLUFF, THOUGH, so I guess that balances it???  
> This stemmed from a text post I read on tumblr that said something along the lines of "Lance, are you wearing my shirt? -Keith, probably". What happened was, I read skirt instead of shirt, and then i wrote this. Whoops.  
> Okay, I'm talking too much so I'm cutting this short for now: I really hope you guys like this!

Lance had never thought skirts were his thing. It wasn't that he didn't like them – he loved skirts and dresses, on both girls and boys –, they just weren't his style; as in, he never would have thought he'd wear one.

So, how come he was now in front of the huge mirror in his boyfriend's bedroom, trying on one of his cutesy bubble skirts?

Lance had spent the previous night at his place, and when he'd woken up Keith hadn't been there. He had found it a bit odd, but he had grown accustomed to his character during the time they'd been together, so he hadn't worried too much about it. Sure enough, Keith had left him a sticky note on the kitchen table where he said he had gone out to buy them both breakfast. Smiling, Lance had folded the sticky note and put it away with his things; he never got rid of anything that had to do with Keith.

He knew his boyfriend needed space, now and then. Whenever he spent too much time with people, even just with Lance, he tended to become grumpy, insufferable and temperamental, all things that didn't go well with Lance's personality and led them to fight over the stupidest things. He was a loner, after all, he had always been one, and their relationship had greatly improved since Lance had come to terms with it. In the beginning, he had subconsciously wanted to change him, to make him become a people's person, and that obviously hadn't sat well with Keith. Now, though, he just left him alone whenever he sensed he had to, and Keith always came back to him after a while. It was good.

Lance guessed what had ultimately led him to try on that lilac skirt had been curiosity. The day he had first laid his eyes on Keith, he was wearing that exact same piece of clothing, and Lance had been smitten. He had looked otherworldly, so comfortable and at ease, like he didn't give a damn about what society had to say with its stupid rules and uncomfortable roles. Lance just wanted to see if he could pull it off, you know? If he could feel pretty and don't give a damn, for once.

He probably came off as the most carefree person in the entire freaking universe, but the truth was, he had always found it difficult not to care about what people said and thought of him. He tried his best to hide his insecurities under countless layers of smugness and awful jokes, because really he just wanted others to like him, seeing that he wasn't sure he liked himself enough. Keith had helped him more than he could explain on that, but he still cared, and it still hurt sometimes.

Looking at the image of himself in the mirror, Lance didn't feel pretty at all. He felt awkward, clumsy, out of his element. All he could think about was Keith, and how well he wore the pastel goth dresses he loved so much. In comparison, Lance looked like a kid who was trying on his mother's clothes for shits and giggles. He cringed, nervously smoothing the soft fabric of the skirt as if doing so would change something.

«Lance, are you wearing my skirt?»

Keith's voice took him by surprise, so much so that he almost shot through the roof with a loud gasp.

« _¡Dios mío!_ », he shouted, «You're too quiet, dude!»

Keith frowned.

«Stop calling me “dude”, my tongue is in your mouth a lot.»

Lance let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

«Whatever, man.»

He just couldn't believe how silent he had been. Keith had never been the noisy type, but still, Lance hadn't even heard the apartment door opening. He had either been too engrossed in his thoughts or Keith had feared he was still asleep and hadn't wanted to risk waking him up.

«So, is that my skirt?», Keith asked again.

Lance had almost forgotten about it, what with the minor heart attack and all, but as he looked down he immediately started scrambling to get out of the skirt as quickly as possible. Except, Keith stopped him, grabbing both his hands and holding them up.

«What are you doing?»

Lance blinked a few times, then gulped. What was he doing?

«I'm sorry?», he said, hesitantly.

Keith appeared confused by that, so Lance gathered it hadn't been a good answer.

«Why would you be sorry?»

«I mean, yes, it is your skirt, I was wearing your skirt, and I'm sorry that I was wearing your skirt, and now I'm taking your skirt off to give it back, so can you please let go of my arms? So that I can… give you… your skirt... back?»

Keith raised an eyebrow and glanced at him with a knowing look.

«You're constantly stealing my t-shirts and hoodies and never have you ever apologized about it. Like, ever, Lance.»

Lance scowled.

«Come on, that's not true.»

«It's true, and you know it full well.»

Lance pouted and shifted his gaze to the bedroom's floor. Okay, he may have borrowed a t-shirt or two, so what?

«You look good in it.»

Lance could physically feel the redness seeping through his cheeks at that.

«Yeah, right, you can stop making fun of me and let go, now», he murmured.

«What?»

Keith sounded almost angry, and instinctively Lance moved his head back up to search his face for clues. He didn't find actual anger in it, it was more like… disappointment? Oh, no. Anger Lance could deal with, but disappointment? That was harsh.

«You genuinely think I'm kidding you?», Keith asked, while looking at him expectantly.

Did he? Lance wasn't sure. He knew Keith wouldn't lie to him, but he didn't understand how could he say stuff like that. He looked like garbage, he had eyes to see that for himself.

Keith sighed, then lowered Lance's arms, put them behind his back and forced him to turn so that the both of them would be facing the mirror. Lance squirmed a little, but soon realised there would be no use in trying to break free, and just surrendered; Keith was a bit shorter than him, but damn, was he strong.

He didn't want to look. It had been embarrassing enough when he had been alone, but with Keith right there with him – wearing a dress, and a gorgeous one no less, completely black except for the white collar – it was just injurious.

Keith rested his chin on Lance's shoulder, while lacing their fingers together and circling his boyfriend's waist with his arms.

«Look in the mirror, Lance.»

Lance did, if somewhat forcedly. He was still wearing the t-shirt he used as pyjamas, the one with “born 2 sleep” written on it, which wasn't necessarily what Keith would have matched the skirt with, but he still managed to kill it. Keith had never thought about Lance wearing that sort of clothes, for no reason in particular other than the fact he just hadn't, but now he regretted it deeply.

Lance was blushing slightly and he had that look on his face that said he was about to snap at Keith for not having it his way.

«It suits you so well I was thinking I might lend it to you, if you wanted», Keith said, looking at their reflections.

Lance bit his lower lip and furrowed his brow even more.

«Shut up, I don't want it, it's not my style», he answered through gritted teeth.

Keith smiled a little. Of course he'd say that.

«Okay, whatever», Keith shrugged it off, «But you know, skirts are very comfortable.»

He kissed Lance's neck and a little shriek escaped his mouth. He had always been oh so very sensitive there, one single soft touch was enough to break him. Keith bit down on the flesh right next to his Adam's apple and felt him tighten his grip on his hands.

«This isn't fair», Lance said in a whiny voice, while Keith was licking the bite mark he had left there.

Keith smirked and murmured “What isn't?” against his skin, right before sucking at it rather forcibly. Lance threw his head to the side to give Keith as much space as possible, cursing under his breath as he squeezed his eyes shut.

« _This_ isn't, you jerk», he wheezed out, «What do you think you're doing?»

Keith let go of his neck with one last tentative lick of the reddened skin, just to whisper in his ear:

«What does it look like? I'm worshipping you.»

Lance actually _giggled_ at that.

«Yeah, right», he said, turning his head to look at Keith, whose lips were swollen and slick with spit. They looked at each other for a while before Keith had enough of that and dived into the kiss he was aching for; Lance made everything a challenge, even when it meant staring at one another for hours just to see which of them would surrender and kiss the other first.

He licked his way deep in Lance's mouth, making him moan and shiver as he angled his face better. They kissed until Keith almost forgot what he had meant to do, and what time it was, and where they were, and everything that wasn't Lance. When he found it in him to let go, he slowly disentangled himself from their embrace, to which Lance protested profusely.

«Come on, Keith! I'm really struggling, here!»

Keith didn't say anything, he just dragged him away from the mirror and dismissed all the complaints until the two of them were facing each other in the centre of the room.

«So, I said skirts are very comfortable, right? But I didn't say for what», he said, «Don't you want to know?»

A flash of confusion shot through Lance's face before realization hit him, and when it did, his eyes immediately seemed to turn a darker shade of blue.

Keith dropped to his knees, looking up at Lance as he put his hands on his shoulders. He shot him a quick, crooked smile before disappearing under the skirt. Lance was already half hard from their make-out session alone, and Keith totally would have teased him for it if only it hadn't turned him on just as much. So he shut up instead, and used his mouth for a greater good.

As soon as he started mouthing the fabric of Lance's underwear, he felt him tense up and suck in one sharp breath. He blindly raised a hand up for Lance to take, and he did, promptly lacing their fingers together. Then, with his other hand on Lance's left thigh, he kept on sucking him into full hardness until his underwear became soaked in spit and pre-cum and Keith decided to get rid of it. He lowered it and let it pool around Lance's ankles, while he took his length in his free hand and rubbed up and down a few times.

Lance made a noise like a wounded animal and put both hands on Keith's head over the smooth cloth of the skirt. He couldn't see him with that in the way, but that only meant that the rest of Lance's senses were exceptionally alert, making him extraordinarily sensitive to his touch.

With both his hands free, Keith could hold Lance's hips steady while he took him almost completely in and sucked hard.

«Fuck!», he heard Lance scream, and Keith was sure he would've tugged at his hair if only had he been able to reach them. Lance sure loved tugging at his hair, for someone who always complained about “that stupid ass mullet”.

Once Lance's dick was no longer in his mouth, Keith smiled and asked him:

«Did you like that?»

His hot breath tickled Lance's wet cock, and instead of answering the question he just pushed him towards his crotch again. It was a gentle push, only to let Keith know what he wanted, and Keith knew he had done it because he was too desperate to even speak, so he didn't hold back any longer. With one hand he circled the base of his dick, while he swallowed the tip and sucked once. Lance threw his head back, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, and a low moan escaped them when Keith let his tongue draw circles around the head. Then, Keith licked all the way up from the base and took him in again, and after that it didn't take long for Lance to get close.

«Keith– I'm–»

Keith didn't want to stop, so he couldn't really talk, and he couldn't even show him that it was okay to cum because he was literally crouched under a skirt, so he just sort of made a noise around Lance's length and that also happened to do the trick. Lance cursed in Spanish – he always did it when he was too lost in pleasure – and Keith swallowed thick cum directly as it shot out, to the point where he was almost sucking it out of Lance's dick, which was quickly becoming over sensitive. Licking eventual residue off his lips, he emerged from under the skirt to Lance looking down at him with clouded eyes. He was breathing heavily and shaking all over from the orgasm, and as Keith smiled he fell to his knees in front of him. He laced his arms around his neck and buried his hands in his hair like he would have done before if only he could have.

«See one of the countless pros of wearing a skirt, now?», Keith asked, brushing his nose against Lance's, «Way less time wasted unbuttoning and unzipping and shimmying out of tight jeans.»

Lance laughed weakly and nodded.

«Idiot», he commented, fondly, «But I guess you're right on that one. Maybe.»

Like he'd ever openly admit Keith was right about something, for once. He hadn't gone soft on him, not yet.

Once he had managed to calm down enough, as they were making out almost lazily, Lance slipped a hand under Keith's dress and wrapped it around his fully hard cock. Keith was generally quiet during sex, so Lance opened his eyes for a second to check his reaction; his brow was furrowed, and he could feel him leaning into Lance's touch.

Lance moved from Keith's mouth to his jawline, kissing and biting his way to his ear while slowly stroking his dick up and down. As he sucked on his earlobe and Keith rewarded him with one of his rare and gratifying moans, he tapped on the head with his index finger once, twice, before getting back to work. He began to set a steady pace, smearing pre-cum all over Keith's length while he grew more and more impatient and started fucking his hand. Lance briefly captured his lips again but parted from him right when he sensed he was close.

«Come for me, Keith», he whispered against his hot skin, and Keith did, coating Lance's hand in thick white ropes as he kissed his temple.

Lance licked his hand clean and they remained there leaning against one another until they had partially recovered from all the action. Keith got up first.

«Breakfast must be getting cold», he said, offering Lance a hand to help him get up.

Lance took it, and the skirt he was wearing danced around his legs. He smiled. It _was_ comfortable, and maybe he did look pretty in it. He still wasn't sure, but it felt better now.

«You already had the best kind of breakfast this world has to offer: _mi pene_ », he stated, his (mostly) fake boldness back from the war, «Don't be greedy.»

Keith, who had learned quite a bit of Spanish jargon by then, resisted the urge to flip him the bird and settled for rolling his eyes instead.

«Whatever you say, Lance», he allowed, then exited the room with his boyfriend on his tail.

 

* * *

 

After his usual hour-long beauty bath, using Keith's bathroom and Keith's water of course, Lance had come to his room and sat on the edge of his bed. His hair were still wet and he was shirtless; actually, he was wearing a towel around his waist, nothing else, and Keith had to resist the urge to jump on him right then and there, which was particularly hard considering his mind-blowingly low self-control.

«I was wondering...», Lance started, then trailed off.

Two weeks had passed since the day in which he'd tried on Keith's lilac skirt, and he had had a lot of time to mull over it, but he still wasn't completely sure of what he had decided.

Keith remained silent, but he urged him to continue with a nod of his head. So, he did.

«Well, I was wondering if maybe… I don't know, could you lend me one of your skirts for a day?»

Keith smiled openly and Lance felt his heart tighten in his chest. He loved seeing Keith's smile like that, it was such a rare and utterly beautiful view.

«Of course», he immediately agreed.

Then he seemed to backtrack a little, but only jokingly so.

«Why? Are you planning on wooing someone?»

Lance scrunched up his nose and pointed at himself and his practically naked body.

«Puh-lease, I don't need skirts for that, I'll have you know!» he said, matter-of-factly, «After all, I'm constantly wooing _you_ with my natural charm, am I not?»

Keith snorted, but deep down they both knew it was, indeed, true. Keith didn't know how, but alas.

«Say whatever you want to say to make yourself feel better», he told him.

Lance gasped exaggeratedly and shoved him playfully, calling him a “royal asshole”.

Keith scooted over to where he was and planted a big smooch on his sealed lips, but they didn't stop there. They never did. Lance climbed on his lap and cupped his face with both his hands, while Keith's wandered all over his naked thorax and back. Right when things were starting to get perhaps a bit too heated, though, Lance practically launched himself to the other side of the room, leaving Keith perplexed to say the least.

«No, come on!», he screamed, «I've literally just taken a bath, I want to go out, we're not doing this right now.»

And just like that he was off to the bathroom again, and Keith was gaping at the open door, wondering whatever had he done in his life to deserve this.

 

 

«Do you want to go out or not?», Keith asked.

He had been waiting for Lance to make up his mind for half an hour, now, and he was losing his patience. He wasn't even the one who had decided to got out in the first place, so honestly it wasn't fair at all for him to suffer like that.

Lance looked at himself one more time and grimaced. He had on a baby blue skirt with suspenders, and it was pretty, and he guessed he sort of did feel pretty, too, but did he really want to go out like that?

He shot Keith a quick glance and gulped. He had on a pair of tight black jeans, and as much as Lance loved that look on him he just wished he could have picked a dress or something.

«Do you want me to wear a skirt, too?», Keith said, as if he had read his mind. He sometimes freaked Lance out, with that. Even when he didn't speak, Keith just knew.

«Please?», Lance mumbled.

Keith ruffled his hair on his way to the wardrobe.

«You could've said it sooner, would've saved some time.»

Lance smiled almost shyly while fixing his hair up because God damn it, Keith.

He felt better, already.

 

 

They were walking hand in hand through a park when the first hateful comment hit Lance's ears. A guy who had to be in his late twenties literally bumped right into him on purpose while whispering – barely loud enough to be heard by them alone – “give your little sisters their clothes back, you disgusting faggots”. Lance felt the urge to punch him straight in the face, but managed to hold his temper and even stop Keith from initiating an actual fight.

«It's not worth it», he said, though after that walking nonchalantly became more difficult.

He had enjoyed the sensation of walking around in something different than jeans, up until then. It was a warm and sunny day, and Keith had told him he looked stunning so many times that he had actually started believing him a bit. They had gone to their usual bubble tea place and no one had told them anything, nor looked at them with weird expressions. He had almost forgotten a good chunk of humanity believed in gender roles.

Then, the close-encounter-of-the-douchebag-kind had happened, and he had lost his semblance of bravado.

«Can we sit here for a while?», he asked Keith when they reached a spot overshadowed by a huge tree.

«Sure», Keith agreed, sitting down.

Lance lay down with his head on his lap and started looking for the few clouds he could find. Watching them slowly change shape and guessing to what exactly they resembled after each change had always calmed him down, ever since he was a kid.

«That one looks a bit like a slice of pizza», Keith said, pointing at the sky.

Lance furrowed his brow.

«Or like a triangle.»

Keith shrugged.

«I'm hungry», he explained.

Lance chuckled.

«Hey, Lance...», Keith started saying.

«Mh?»

«Are you still thinking about it?»

Lance sighed and closed his eyes, frowning. He hated being so self-conscious all the time, he wished he could just be full of himself like he seemed.

«Yeah, sorry», he answered, because there was not point in hiding stuff from Keith and he knew it.

Keith started running his fingers through Lance's hair, and Lance leaned into the comforting touch.

«It's not the first time we've been called faggots», Keith told him, as if he didn't know already.

The problem wasn't even that - sadly, he was used to it - it was… what was it? Why couldn't he just feel okay?

«You don't have to wear skirts if you don't want to.»

«I want to.»

«It's the first time I've heard you say that.»

Lance thought about it. It was true, he had never openly said he _wanted_ to wear a skirt from time to time, and that he wanted to just because. Not even to himself. Why had it been so difficult to admit it?

«You shouldn't be ashamed of yourself for this, it's not like you've killed a man», Keith told him.

Lance clicked his tongue.

«I don't know about it, I think I might have killed that guy, earlier», he pondered, «Or at least his masculinity.»

« _We_ might have.»

«We might have.»

They both laughed, and Lance felt considerably lighter after that. He sat up and kissed Keith on the cheek, then stood up and offered him his hand.

«Come on, let's go, I've got to show the world these absolutely breathtaking legs of mine», he chirped.

Keith took his hand and stood up as well.

«Now, this is the Lance I know and despise», he said, though he was smiling.

As they started walking again, they heard a little girl in ponytails yelling that she wanted “that person's skirt, the blue one” while tugging impatiently at her mother's sleeve. The woman looked at them and shot them an apologetic smile, then told the child they'd search for a similar skirt if she liked it that much.

Lance laced his fingers with Keith's and gently bumped against him.

«Everybody loves me, Keith», he boasted.

Keith rolled his eyes and shook his head, snorting.

«Oh, no, I know», he indulged him.

«You're lucky, because there's only one thing I love in this universe, and that thing is...»

He stopped talking for one, two and three seconds, and Keith prepared himself to hear something incredibly stupid.

«… your bathtub, so I guess you win the benefit of having me around at all times. Make good use of it!»

Keith rose on his tiptoes and kissed the top of Lance's head, making him giggle.

«I will», he guaranteed.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently "mi verga" is spanish slang(???) for "my dick"??? lmao BUT THEN a lovely person helped me out and said pija would sound better so i changed it sorry i know approximately 0 things about spanish smh  
> Klance has become my entire life in like half a day, and I sort of want to try and write a long fic about them, with all the other Voltron characters (CHILDREN) as well? So, whoever wants to brainstorm with me, swap headcanons and/or become my beta reader - since english isn't my first language and I'm never too sure of the things I write - please please please hmu!!!  
> You can find me at septipieler.tumblr.com!  
> ok bye nite thanks for reading!!!


End file.
